Roots punks contemplate current affairs and conclude
Armageddon is upon us

Thirty years after they formed in Leeds, and fifteen or so after
most of them relocated to America, the Mekons return to England for
their quietest and weirdest album since 1982's The Mekons
Story. Replete with chants, harmonicas, found percussion and an
extra helping of haunted London holdout Tom Greenhalgh, Natural
eschews the comforting competence of unplugged à la MTV. Instead it
delivers the ramshackle, ritualistic, druids-at-Stonehenge mood that
campfire crusties at U.K. festivals like Glastonbury aspire
to. Convinced Armageddon is upon us, the Mekons are determined to get
in some mournful Earth worship first, and for fans who feel the
spirit, songs will emerge. Try the beyond-thematic "Dark Dark Dark,"
the Iraq-meets-Palm Springs "Burning in the Desert Burning" or the
reggaefied "Cockermouth," in which Jon Langford's distracted "I
ramble" sinks into Sally Timms' gentle "You have to believe this is
the end." Maybe it's not the end. But it's a taste.